


Solid Ground

by twinSky



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen, Mentions of other characters - Freeform, and i mean other characters are actually there, but they don't even say anything so???, i.e melissa and deaton
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-15
Updated: 2014-03-15
Packaged: 2018-01-15 18:32:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1314967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twinSky/pseuds/twinSky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Because they'll hurt you, I'll hurt you, we'll hurt you." He said it frantically, voice strained, trying to stress to Scott the importance of letting him leave. Which Scott didn't see, or rather, couldn't see what wasn't even there. Because this was Stiles (he knew this time, he was sure) and Stiles was just being his regular ordinary self, worrying over others so much, trying so hard to keep everyone safe, that this time he had manage to lose himself along the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Solid Ground

**Author's Note:**

> Standard Disclaimer of; I Do Not Own  
> Also disclaimer in which that despite the fact that I wrote weird thrown up bandage Stiles as actual Stiles, I refuse to believe either of them are Stiles until proven otherwise(because this has all been too easy) but I really needed to write this before the next episode came out, so typed it all up today
> 
> (It's weird writing for a fandom I know my friends follow, what if they see this? don't read it then omg)

Now, really, if he’s being absolutely honest here, every part of Scott wants to believe that the boy that lay before him is Stiles.

Stiles, who was his friend from childhood, his brother, someone Scott could never imagine living without -but he couldn't be _sure_ it was actually him, and it scared him. Scared him more than he cared to admit because he had seen death, seen horror, seen things he was sure should never exist and he came out fine. Slightly terrified, and a always a bit worse for wear but fine. This however, was not fine at all.

The (nogitsune, person, _Stiles_ ) lay in the same position he had left him in when he had exited the room screaming (and how ironic was that really) Lydia's name. Lydia who had disappeared with the nogitsune (which she had, right? But if that was the nogitsune than this had to be Stiles, right?) when they were all distracted by a pile of bandages coming to _life_.

(And that was weird even for all the things that they had seen. Because no one should be able to spit out -throw up -that many bandages and look fine after, and, even worse, have those bandages begin to rise up and form a person.)

So now he was staring at someone (Stiles) who was shaking so harshly and refusing to look anyone in the eyes, or even look up in general for that matter. And somehow he just knew, or maybe it was a desperate belief or the logical thinking that was deduction, that this was Stiles.

_(Never trust a fox, Scott)_

The words were a clear echo in his head, he could still feel the sword twisting around him if he really tried, and it was a reminder that as much as he wanted this to be Stiles it didn’t make it so.

Oh, but this was Stiles, warning from the nogitsune who twisted his best friends features to unrecognisable expressions be damned. Because wouldn’t believing those words be trusting the fox as well?

_(There’s a fine line between delusion and denial you know)_

He shook his head (because that was something Stiles had told him years before this had happened and it wasn’t helping any now) and looked around the room, Peter had left a while back -to get Derek he had said, to help find Lydia he assured. He wasn't sure how much he trusted the others words (but he was, and it was absolutely one hundred percent not at all) but he let him go without question regardless. He had texted Derek anyways, so he would know if the other had lied about it. His mother was somewhere else in the house, probably the kitchen, most likely calming down and attempting to understand what she had just witnessed.

He would love to explain it to her, help her relax, but he wasn't even sure what had just happened, couldn't even calm down himself. (Secretly and perhaps selfishly he wished that she would come comfort him because he really, and perhaps a bit desperately, wanted her too.)

Only Deaton remained in the room with him, staring at Stiles (because it was Stiles, it had to be) with what Scott could only assume were wary eyes -because Deaton, Scott was half sure, made only the smallest of changes of expressions and had a simultaneously calming and unnerving presence that would forever be hard to read. Still though, he appreciated his presence now (but when did he not in the first place), because even when riled Deaton remained calm and Scott respected that, wished he could do the same.

And then, interrupting Scott's thought and reminding him that he really should've said something, anything, by now, Stiles spoke.

"We need to get out of here, we need to leave." The words were rushed, and not in his normal, 'speaking faster than his brain or mouth can keep up' way, but in more of a 'I am deeply terrified for my life and maybe yours' kind of way. Which he understood, he would be too.

"Stiles," He tried slowly, softly, not sure what to think when the other didn't even react, didn't even seem to notice. "You need to calm down, I know you're probably worried about Lydia but she'll be fine, she’s strong, and of course we’ll find her." And of course Stiles would be worried about someone else when he had been possessed for days (days that felt far too long to be normal), pushed aside while a malignant fox spirit ran rampant in his body causing chaos, strife, and pain wherever it went.

Stiles looked up then, gazing at Scott with what he could only describe as confusion, which didn't make sense because why would he be confused? Well, there was a lot to be confused about really but nothing he had said seemed something worthy of confusion.

Confused himself he reached out a hand, wanting to reassure the other, only to watch with increasing confusion as the other recoiled violently away from him.

 _"Don't touch us!_ " He screeched, and it was only when he started shaking again did Scott notice he had stopped in the first place. "We'll hurt you." He continued, voice so much more soft and fragile compared to the head pounding screech from earlier.

But...

_What?_

"What?" He felt more than saw Deaton slightly stiffen beside him at the wording and couldn't stop the not so mild hammering of his heart himself. "Stiles?" He tried again, somehow managing an even gentler tone, noticing once again the look of confusion.

Frowning, he turned to Deaton, "Maybe you should leave for a bit?" He had meant to say it with finality and was more than mildly annoyed at the questioning tone he got instead. Deaton opened his mouth to protest but he simply raised a hand. "I'll call if I need help, just, please?"

The emissary stared at him silently for a few seconds, gaze calculating, and then nodded, quietly leaving the room and leaving him and Stiles alone.

"Let us leave, please." Stiles all but begged and Scott just didn't know what to say, because if this was another nogitsune trick well then, well then Scott didn't know what he would do. Because Stiles looked more terrified than when he had that panic attack, when he was so sure he was sleeping and none of this was real (Scott had kind of been hoping for the same thing for awhile now) and it _hurt_ to see him so distraught.

"Stiles, Stiles why are you talking about in plural form?" Because the nogitsune always tricked, it pretended to be Stiles, pretended everything was fine and this was anything but.

"I let him, it, _them_ in." He said quietly, quickly, without breath, and then repeated it again and again as if it were some sort of mantra. "I'm so sorry."

"Stiles I-"

"Are you real?" There was a whining tone in his voice, like a child who wanted to be told yes no matter how ridiculous the request. "We need you to be real."

"Stiles, you -I-, please don’t use we." He said, for lack of anything better to say, because he didn't know, wasn’t sure, what better even was.

"We are one, I let them in, we hurt people-"

"Stiles, it hurt people, not you." He had hoped Stiles would understand but he simply shook his head vehemently, strangled noises of disapproval coming from his throat as he tried to back further away from him. He sighed, frustrated and drained, and reached out to the other and grabbing his wrists.

Stiles stilled instantly, and Scott thought then that maybe this wasn't as good as an idea as he had first thought.

"No, no, no, no, please no let me go." Scott would've taken the use of 'me' over 'us' as a positive sign if Stiles didn't follow it up by widening his eyes and proceeding to curl in on himself as much as he could with his arms restrained.

"Why?"

"Because they'll hurt you, I'll hurt you, _we'll_ hurt you." He said it frantically, voice strained, trying to stress to Scott the importance of letting him leave. Which Scott didn't see, or rather, couldn't see what wasn't even there. Because this was Stiles (he knew this time, he was sure) and Stiles was just being his regular ordinary self, worrying over others so much, trying so hard to keep everyone safe, that this time he had manage to lose himself along the way.

(And Stiles always said that it was him, that it was Scott, that brought them together, that kept them close, but Scott knew better than anyone that it was Stiles and that the other would do anything for all of them, and he had. Always would.)

"I don't blame you for anything Stiles, no one does, we blame it just like you should." He replied, willing Stiles to feel the conviction in the statement, the truth of the matter that he had been nothing but a pawn in the scheme of something far darker than they had imagined.

"But it, we..." Stiles tried again, voice breaking off.

"You are you Stiles, no one else, no matter what it said, what it did, what it made you think, don't ever forget that."

Stiles stayed silent, and Scott wondered if the other had truly listened to him.

"It's not gone, we - _I_ \- can still feel it." He was biting his lips and Scott was worried he'd break skin. "Don't let it take us -me- again, _please_." He said, voice breaking into a pleading whisper.

"Stiles, that thing isn't coming anywhere near you as long as I can help it, as long as I live." And again, maybe that was the wrong choice of words considering that it had no qualms with killing him while it wore Stiles' face, in fact it took more joy in the fact that it did.

"Don't say it like that, never say anything like that again actually, no 'I'll die for you' promises ever again when I am within 100 miles of you." Stiles said, and then gave his best attempt at a smile; which honestly looked worse than a trademark Derek Hale grimace but maybe that was better left unsaid. After all if Stiles was feeling up to making very bad (and extremely welcome) jokes then Scott would accept it with open arms.

"Got it," And then, a beat later, "pinky promise?"

And Stiles laughed, a slightly harsh sound as if he was out of practice (and he probably was, at least Scott thought he would be), but completely genuine and absolutely Stiles.

"What are we," And if Stiles stilled at the word, Scott totally didn't notice, "eight? Was that the last time me and you made a pinky promise? I think so." It was, Scott remembered it clearly and knew Stiles did too.

"Well I think the situation calls for it."

"Okay fine, but you're going to need to let go of o-my hands." And he did, following up the action by interlocking his pinky with Stiles'.

"Promise." He said, and Stiles replied the same.

So maybe Stiles was still shaking a bit too much, and maybe he would be having minor trouble with pronouns for awhile and maybe Stiles would be haunted about his for whiles to come (because why wouldn't he be), but for now Stiles was here, and safe and Scott planned to keep it this way for as long as could.

He shifted to sit beside him, wrapping one arm around Stiles and pulling him close. They sat there quietly, a position they hadn't been in since Stiles' mom died and they'd been at his house playing when he just started crying and wouldn't stop. He hadn't known what to do back then, and didn't know what to do now, but just being there had seemed like enough, and still did.

Because back then Stiles had thought himself lost, and this time he had been. And last time all he had needed was solid ground to stand on, and this time he'd be there to provide again, and he always would be.

**Author's Note:**

> Uh, apologies for any choppiness or weird characterization.  
> I haven't written in months and perhaps writing for a fandom i'm still new to (I've four episodes left of 3a before i'm even technically caught up) for the first time ever was not the best way to start back up.  
> Still, I love this season so much because of horrible personal preferences and if I didn't write at least one thing about it before the season ended I'd hate myself forever  
> P.s. I don't like calling things it really so you know, settled for 'they', hope that doesn't annoy anyone too much
> 
> (p.p.s. as a ffnet writer this tag thing is weird to me so if there any i'm supposed to add feel free to say)


End file.
